


The Puzzle Box

by linda92595



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linda92595/pseuds/linda92595
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MacLeod gives Methos a present with surprising results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Puzzle Box

The Highlander stood on the stairs of the Elysian church in Bordeaux watching Methos wander down the steps, with a muttered sigh he said, “What about Cassandra?”

Methos paused, jerking as if MacLeod had physically struck him, then uttered over his shoulder. “One of a thousand regrets, Highlander, one of a thousand regrets.”

The tall, slender form ambled across the vacant field behind the church heading for the boulevard and the train home. MacLeod paused at the top of the steps for a moment then followed along behind the other man. Methos never looked back and the Highlander felt something breaking inside him all his hopes for a return to pretence of their normal relationship dying with the fading light.

 

 

**Duvall Estate Sale, Paris**.

The tables of the large public rooms were finely made and highly polished mahogany, but the man standing beside the twin tables was far more interested in the white and gold china bearing the Duvall family crest than the tables themselves. MacLeod ran a finger over the fine, bone china faintly tracing over the crest. His bid on the china was high and it was worth every penny. The client he was working for was a distant relation to the late Professor Duvall and wanted to keep the china in the family. The late Professor’s last acquisition, his fourth wife, seemed uninterested in the family’s wishes however, hence the large sale.  Beside one of the china bowls was a small wooden box, ornately carved with tiny Chinese characters on a multitude of small square tiles. The black lid of the box was hollowed into a shallow tray and the tiles could be arranged and re-arranged into different designs.

 

MacLeod did not hear the woman approaching until she was immediately behind him. The Highlander looked up smiling at the estate agent handling the bids. She nodded at the table. “The bids on the china were opened, and yours was the highest.” She cocked her head at his seeming lack of a response then MacLeod realized what she had said and smiled, then he asked, “What is this?”

 

“Ah, a puzzle box, but a very special one, it’s said to be enchanted. If you arrange the tiles into a design pleasing to the spirits and make a wish and mix the tiles again it will be granted.”

 

“Just one, I thought it was supposed to be three.” 

 

The agent smiled at him shaking her head, “That’s genies Mr. MacLeod. You get only the one unless you can re-arrange the tiles into exactly the same design then you can cancel out your first wish. Oh and no other person can undo a wish made by someone else, so you really have to be careful. And I’ve been told that the spirits have a sense of humor, too. ”

 

“Do you know how hard it would be to come up with the exact same design; there must the hundreds if not thousands of variations these tiny characters can make.”

 

“Of course that presupposes that the box can actually work magic in the first place. Do you believe in magic Mr. MacLeod?”

 

Grinning at her the Highlander tugged his wallet out of his pocket, “I believe in a kind of magic, I’ll take the box, too. I have a friend I want a present for.  This might be intriguing enough to make him happy.”

 

She carefully pulled out a receipt book and wrote up a receipt for the purchase price, “Is he a special friend?” she asked casually. MacLeod watched as the agent tucked the box into a small white paper bag.

 

“Yes, a very special friend.”  He replied before realizing how that might be interpreted. Her eyes glowed and he flushed bright crimson. Letting the tip of her tongue moisten her lips the lady said, “Lucky friend.”

 

Methos wasn’t at home when MacLeod took the puzzle box by his apartment. He thought about leaving it on the door, but was unsure of how the gesture might be received. Sadly he tucked the small white parcel into the pocket of his coat walking to his car. The drive to the barge was made in utter silence and MacLeod was once again stricken by the sad state of his friendship with the eldest immortal. Kronos and the revelation of Methos’ distance past had been the straw that broke the camel’s back as far as MacLeod and Methos taking their relationship to a higher level.

 

MacLeod had been more than ready to make a move since Methos seemed to have kicked his flirtations into high gear in the recent months; the Highlander had often sat in the barge humming with arousal long after the irritating ancient had left, gleefully planning the most appropriate time to pounce.  He was certain that Methos was absolutely sure that MacLeod had never had a male lover, and thereby would never initiate an intimate relationship. MacLeod’s almost maniacal glee at the thought that he might actually be one up on the Old Man had kept him savoring the constant sexual tension rather than acting on it.

Now MacLeod was certain that their friendship was all but dead let alone any chance for a sexual relationship. He had tried to understand Methos’ explanations that the Horsemen were a product of their times, that the world was a different place and that he was a different man, but the Highlander’s moral code just seemed to shut down any possibility of reconciliation.   

 

As he stepped out of the car MacLeod paused scanning the horizon for a faint tingle of immortal presence signaling a visit from Methos, but the quay was as empty as the barge. Hitching a sigh the Highlander walked up the gangplank and unlocked the door.

 

Dinner consumed, the dishes washed and mail read MacLeod settled on the sofa eyes closed. He seemed unable to shake the exhaustion hanging over him and restlessly he paced to his coat thinking he might go out. He stopped taking a step backwards then his hand settled on his pocket and the parcel within. Tugging the small bag out of his pocket the Highlander returned to settle on the sofa turning the puzzle box over in his hands.

 

Carefully he poured a drink out of the crystal decanter on the side table, drank it then poured another and set about working a design with the tiny wooden tiles. Several glasses of scotch later he sat hunched over fingers stroking the satiny wood until he smiled at the sweep of characters that vaguely resembled a Celtic knot. The design was pretty. If he had been a spirit it would have pleased him.

 

MacLeod snickered. Finally, closing his eyes he thought of a wish... “Uhmm, I wish that Methos was the kind of person who would have never been able to get involved with the Horsemen.” 

 

Letting his fingers trail across the box he shook out the design, making certain that no trace remained,  then tucked the box back into the bag. Yawning widely MacLeod dropped the bag onto the coffee table and stumbled to his bed.

 

**Methos’ apartment, the next morning.**

Bright sunlight broke through the partially closed drapes falling in a wide stripe on the dark tousled head on the pillows. A huge green-gold eye popped open as the owner of the tousled head glared at the window. Kicking back the coverlet Methos rose staggering to the casement tugging on the stubborn curtains. The cool morning air prickled on Methos’ chest causing a plump pink nipple to pucker. The ancient immortal reached around scratching a buttock. Finally, he pushed the curtains back altogether standing in front of the huge bay window.

Across the street the construction workers framing out the repairs on the roof of the neighboring building stood gaping at the figure framed in glass and dark green draperies. Methos grinned waving at the awe struck men, “God you’d think they had never seen me before,” he snapped to himself.

 

Having been awakened on more than one occasion by their noise he was more than happy to have stopped them dead in their tracks. Suddenly a hooting whistle broke out from the taller of two men standing the closest to Methos’ window. Soon all the other men took it up as they waved in return.

 

Rolling his eyes Methos wandered away from the window toward his bathroom. Grunting he adjusted the water and fumbled with his toothbrush. The mirror was too steamy for him to shave so Methos dropped the light blue cotton boxers that were the only thing he was wearing onto the floor and stepped into the shower. He lathered his hair with shampoo and then scrubbed his back with the pink scrunchy thingy that came with the shower gel. Slathering the gel over his butt he pulled the scrunchy thingy over his groin and stopped dead. Looking down the toothbrush dropped from his mouth as his jaw gaped open. His balls were gone.

 

In fact, his penis seemed to be missing as well.

 

“Uhmm,” he clearly remembered having them with him last night when he went to bed. In fact they proved to be the source of solitary amusement over the course of the evening. And he could see that the thatch of dark curls seemed to be concealing heretofore-undiscovered body parts. Bending slightly at the waist his fingers slipped as far inside as they could go and Methos gasped, yes it was a _vagina_.

 

“What the hell!” he thought before rinsing quickly and shutting off the water. Blinking in utter consternation Methos stood mouth slight agape as the water slowly dripped off his gleaming skin. He frowned still bent at the waist barely able to draw a breath. “What the hell,” he repeated stumbling out of the shower while reaching for his towel.

 

Drawing another deep breath Methos picked up the towel tugging it over his back and shoulders before his hands moved over his chest.  Aghast he stared down at his breasts. They were tight, round and bounced pertly whenever he moved; tipped with pink nipples that stood proudly at point. Blinking the ancient immortal let his hand travel over the full curve of his bosom then suddenly fury erupted and he slammed the door opened, “What the fuck is going on!” he howled to the empty apartment. His foot came down in a puddle of water and suddenly his arms jerked backwards as he lost his step, landing face down on the condensation-slicked tiles of the bathroom floor.

The dull ache in his head told Methos he was still alive as he swam up from the dark recesses of unconsciousness. The bathroom tile was dry but cold beneath his face and his breasts were squashed and also aching.  Coughing Methos slowly rose still feeling a bit wobbly; he tottered to the now dry mirror and stood gaping. The girl in the mirror was absolutely stunning and still quite recognizable as himself... _herself_? Methos shivered. He was a _girl_ , but still him as well. Resting his head against the basin Methos sucked in a deep lungful of air fighting down the rising hysteria.

 

Slowly he raised his eyes to the mirror yet again. His hair was still short and dark, but sleek looking and shiny. His face was slender with high cheeks and his prominent nose, smaller but still his nose. His eyes seemed larger still hazel framed by lashes even thicker and fuller than before. Stepping back until he could see most of himself in the large mirror Methos turned. He, she, was small, perhaps five feet two inches tall and all of ninety pounds soaking wet, and a good part of that ninety pounds seemed to have been invested in a good old fashioned bosom. _My tits are pretty nice actually, high and firm, he thought._

Then he winced he was getting turned on looking at himself in the mirror. Sighing Methos decided that he was having a psychotic episode.

 

“Oh well, might as well enjoy it,” he said to himself and turned to view as much of his behind as possible.  His ass was a peach he decided, soft and generously curved without being too large. Only the noticeable soft brown hair on his legs marred the image of feminine beauty.

 

Quickly lathering up his shaving brush he realized that he didn’t have to shave his face, but his legs and underarms instead. He was little shaky on the legs but the nicks healed almost immediately so that was no problem. The underarms were a bit trickier but he managed. Then he surveyed himself again. Nice.

 

Suddenly Methos paused; okay, he should really be recovering from this fit about now. He was going to feel really silly with shaved legs in a few minutes but he supposed he could live with it. Sighing yet again he turned to the mirror, still a girl. With a snarl of rage Methos hefted the wooden handled brush and smashed it into the mirror. Fortunately it didn’t break. _What kind of bullshit karma was this?_ He had been a man for five thousand fucking years he was not going to turn into a girl, not now. Carefully stepping over the puddle of water in the floor Methos stomped into the living room. _What happened? People did not just spontaneously change sex; frogs, maybe, but not people. Something was going on here._

The ringing of the telephone caught his attention and Methos grabbed it, “What?” he hissed eyes widening in surprise at the deep throated smoky sound of his voice. The voice on the other end stalled out then MacLeod said, “Methos?”

 

Clearing his throat Methos tried to deepen his voice, “Who else were you expecting?”

 

“You sound kind of funny.” MacLeod said stuttering uncharacteristically. Methos’ heart fell to hear such uncertainty in the Highlander’s voice. “Uhmm, look I got you a present yesterday. I thought, you know, maybe we could celebrate your birthday or something.”

 

“I don’t know when my birthday is, you know that.” Methos snapped then took a deep breath. Whatever had happened wasn’t Duncan’s fault.  “Sorry you just caught me at a bad time, Mac.”

 

“Please Methos I want things to be right between us, let me just drop off the present. You’ll love it. It’s something really exotic.”

 

God, Mac could not see him like this. “Uh, no I don’t think... What kind of present did you get me, I mean, exotic how?”

 

“It’s a puzzle box, an antique, and it has a special power that goes with it,” MacLeod chuckled at that, but Methos’ stomach lurched.

 

“Special power? How can it have a special power?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“Oh,” MacLeod chimed in happy that the ancient immortal was showing so much interest in the box, maybe he had been right when he bought it. “I said the same thing to the agent at the Estate Sale where I found it. I was making a bid for a client and the box was on the table with the pieces of china. You know the Duvall Family...”

When the other man failed to respond the Highlander realized that he was babbling nervously, but he was helpless to stop. If Methos also realized that MacLeod was babbling he failed to comment on it. Clearing his throat to fill the silence over the line MacLeod forged bravely onward, “Anyway, that’s not important...Where was I?”

 

“The box has a special power,” Methos supplied dryly, and he smiled at the hollow chuckle that produced from the other man, enjoying the other man’s discomfort immensely. Coughing the Highlander drew a deep breath and continued.

“Ah, yeah, the Estate agent was giving me a little history on the puzzle box, said that was supposed to be enchanted, and I said pretty much the same thing you did, what kind of special power. Apparently if you make a design on the lid of the puzzle box with the tiles, then make a wish, and erase the design the spirits will grant your wish.”

 

“I see,” Methos said stiffly suddenly realization striking, “ _You_ get a wish?”

 

“Yep, only one though, not three...no genies in the box. I guess they live in bottles, you know like on that old TV program in the sixties...” With a slightly embarrassed chuckle MacLeod added, “I thought you might like to try it...I, umm, nothing. Can I bring it by?”

 

Stunned into silence Methos almost dropped the telephone. “And did you try it out? Did you make a wish, Mac?” he asked coldly as a wave of fury swept over him. The Highlander coughed a bit, and then sheepishly admitted.

 

“Yeah, I sort of made a wish last night before I went to bed _.”_

“Please come over,” Methos said fumbling with the Ivanhoe he had placed on the table that morning. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

Dropping the telephone Methos kicked it across the room watching in grim satisfaction as it smashed into several pieces. With a guttural shriek that was still lot more girlish than he liked Methos jerked the pillows off the sofa and stomped on them, “That miserable son of a bitch! I’ll kill him, several times, and then I’ll castrate him. Why the hell not? He castrated me. That homophobic bastard couldn’t get up the nerve to fuck me when I had a dick so he wished it away. That sheep fucking, cock sucking Scottish prick! That bastard may have taken my cock but he won’t get away with it! He’ll be singing soprano at that god dammed opera he’s so fond of.”

 

Stalking to his bedroom alcove Methos tugged a large steamer truck out of the corner and began searching through. Finally, he pulled a blue silk kimono out wrapping it around his diminutive frame.  It was several inches too long and Methos stumbled over the hem, but he hugged it tightly to his body still cursing. If anything could warrant killing that Gaelic asshole this did.

 

The ringing of the door bell effectively ended his tirade, and Methos drew a deep breath prepared to eviscerate the maniacal Highlander. Stalking to the door with a walk that Methos knew was all wrong for a woman he flung the door open yanking MacLeod inside, slamming the door shut before the neighbors could get an eyeful.

MacLeod jerked away from him, “I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but I must have the wrong apartment.”

“Don’t mademoiselle me you pig fucking son of a bitch!”

 

“Methos?” MacLeod said stunned, then eyes narrowing he added, “Did he put you up to this, Miss? Very funny Methos you can come out now.”

 

“I am out, MacLeod.” Methos said glaring at the Highlander who seemed so much taller than he had before.

 

MacLeod stared down at the petite beauty, suddenly he gasped reaching out a shaky hand to trace the fine line of the deeply etched cheek down the soft tight curve of the jaw, and then turning Methos’ head he reached up to touch the tip of that distinctive nose. “Oh my god! It is you, Methos. What happened?”

 

“ _Ack_ , what do you mean ‘what happened’?” Methos stormed across the room and the Highlander actually cringed before his tiny wrath. Suddenly he flung away the kimono standing naked in all his glory in front of the Highlander. “Look at me, you bastard! You did this to me!”

 

Choking MacLeod shook his head  letting his eyes travel up from the tiny feet along the long, slim legs to the curveaous buttocks and slender waist all the way to the full breasts finally coming to rest on the slim beautiful face, “I’d remember doing you, or rather, doing that to you. My god you’re stunning, absolutely gorgeous.” MacLeod edged forward moving toward the irate woman, “I mean it, Methos, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

 

“That notwithstanding, I was a man yesterday, and every day before that for five thousand years, and I want to be a man again.” he said suddenly deflated as all the fury drained out of him leaving him feeling exhausted.

 

Getting his emotions back under control Methos said more levelly, “So did making my dick vanish give you your jollies or did you wish that I was a woman to pay me back for Cassandra?”

 

“I didn’t wish that you were a woman.”

 

“Then what the hell did you wish?” Methos said glancing down at the white bag MacLeod produced from his pocket.

 

Shrugging the Highlander handed it over, “I don’t exactly remember. I had a couple of drinks, and I was really sleepy.”

 

”Well, just wish that I was a man again.”

 

Flushing crimson the Highlander cringed again. “I told you, it doesn’t work that way. You have to do a design on the lid of the box, and make the wish then erase the design.”

 

“Yes, you told me that. So do another design, and wish me a man or give me the box and I’ll wish myself a man.”

 

“I can’t. I mean it won’t work. You can’t undo a wish that I made. And I can’t undo it either unless I can remember my exact words and redo the exact design I made last night.”

 

Appalled Methos slumped against the sofa back, “Do you know the mathematical probability of reproducing the exact same design?”

 

“Math was never my forte’” Macleod mumbled embarrassed.

 

Methos snatched the box from his hand and whirled prepared to smash it against the wall, but halted. It was his only chance of becoming a man again. “It isn’t mine either but anyone can tell by looking at the fucking number of tiles on the lid that it’s a fucking god dammed impossible task!”

 

“Methos please, it isn’t ladylike to curse.”

 

“Mac, bend over please.” Methos said hefting the now too long and heavy Ivanhoe.

 

MacLeod leaned forward smiling, “Why?”

 

“So I can cut your fucking head off!”

 

“Now, Methos, I’m the only one who has any chance of undoing this at all. If you take my head you’ll stay a girl.”

 

“And maybe if I get your Quickening I’ll get a memory of the design you put on the box. I’ll even let you hang around long enough to be in on making the wish.”

 

“I don’t think it’ll work that way.” MacLeod said backing up, but Methos dragged the Ivanhoe across the floor stalking the Highlander. MacLeod backed away. “I am not going to let you take my head.” he snapped.

 

“Oh and just what makes you think that you can stop me?” the ancient immortal said thrusting the blade at the other man. The sword wavered and Methos puffed from the effort.

 

Chuckling the Highlander scoffed, “You’re just a wee slip of a girl.”

 

Slamming the flat side of the blade against MacLeod’s leg Methos grunted as the blow nearly wrenched his wrist out of socket. The Highlander gasped in pain rubbing his injured thigh. “That hurt,” MacLeod grumbled.

 

With a sigh Methos dropped the sword conceding that he no longer had the strength to wield it effectively, “It didn’t feel too good from this end either.”

 

Slumping over in defeat the ancient immortal collapsed on the floor head resting on his knees, “What am I going to do?”

 

Easing himself onto the floor as well the Highlander smiled, “Well do you have a new identity that we can finesse into a girl? Somebody that no one else has ever seen before? We’ll get you some clothes and I’ll teach you to use a sword, and I’ll work on the puzzle box every night until I get the right combination and reverse this.”

 

“Do you know how long that might take?”

 

“Well, we’re immortal we’ve got time. Please let me help you.” MacLeod smiled batting his lashes at the older immortal, and Methos felt his heart lurch.

 

Frowning to cover the rush of warmth he shrugged, “I’m not one of your fair damsels in distress, Mac.”

“Look I feel responsible for this, “MacLeod added.

 

Methos stiffened, “That’s because you bloody well are responsible for this.”

 

 “Be that as it may. I want to help. I only got the puzzle box as a sort of peace offering. I just wanted things to be better for us again. I’ve just had a hard time understanding how someone like you could have been someone like that.”

 

Casting a sideways glance at the other man Methos stretched out his legs, “That’s the problem Mac. You’re looking at this from the wrong perspective. I was somebody like that a long, long time ago who has changed, over many years, into somebody like me.”

 

 “Okay, I can see that. I have been focusing on the wrong things. I forgot who you are now, by getting overwhelmed by who you used to be.” MacLeod said smiling.

 

Methos actually chuckled at that, “God, Mac, that sounds almost like a concession.”

 “Maybe it is. And maybe it’s been too long in coming. Methos let me help you with this. I’m a reasonably good teacher. I’ve kept Richie alive this long.”

 

 “Oh yes, that’s such a comfort, Mac.” But the ancient immortal was staring at the Highlander with something akin the old affection MacLeod used to see in his eyes. Blushing Methos rose tugging the kimono close around his body. “Well, there’s going to be a big adjustment period for me. I mean I still think of myself as him. Inside I’m still me, Mac. Still the same Methos I’ve always been. Just the packaging has changed.”

 

 “Yeah, considerably changed, and you’re used to operating as a six foot tall one hundred and eighty pound man, now you’re a foot shorter and half that weight. You’ll have to learn new fighting techniques. And maybe some karate, some hand to hand technique that doesn’t depend on size for efficiency. I work out at a friend’s health club at night. I don’t think that he’d care if I brought you along.”

 

 “Well, first things first. I’ll need a new identity that’s female. Actually I may have something that’ll work. I just created William Pierson, to take Adam’s place. I mean Adam is thirty-three and it gets hard to convince people I’m that old. I created his nephew William to take his place. With a little finessing, as you said, William can be come Wilamina.  I’ve got a passport and I know how to replace the picture, it’s not hard at all. I’ll need to hack into the hospital data base and get a new birth certificate but I do that all the time... besides I can get a French driver’s license with just my passport.” Methos smiled, but MacLeod winced.

The Highlander sputtered, “Wilamina! Methos that’s a horrible name.”

 

Methos merely scoffed, “it’ll fit on the bloody documents, Mac. I’ll redraft good old Uncle Michael’s will and leave a hefty chuck of cash to Adam and Wilamina. If it offends your sensibilities you can call me Mina for short, it’ll cover the damned ‘M’ sound you make before you stop yourself from saying Methos in public.”

 

Several minutes of scouring the writing desk in the living room and Methos produced a locked metal box, he found his keys in the pocket of his over coat and unlocked the box pulling out a medium sized yellow padded envelope, and MacLeod could see that there were at least six more in the box.  Another few minutes of intense concentration and Methos’ old photograph was successfully removed from the passport i.d. page.

 

MacLeod leaned over the desk until Methos looked up then said, “Why don’t you bring that to the barge. We’ll go to the mall and pick you out some clothes to tide you over for a few days. In fact a friend of mine, Jon MacLowery and his daughter Jamie stayed at the barge last summer when I was in Seacouver and she left some things there. I think you’re about her size. How old are you going to make yourself? Certainly not over twenty-one or so, nobody will believe you’re older than that.”

 

“Well, twenty-two, actually, according to the passport.”

 

Gathering up the documents Methos stuffed them into an envelope and grabbed his wallet and keys. Belting the kimono tightly around his body he followed MacLeod out the door. It was a short drive to the barge from Methos’ apartment and he scurried up the gangplank after the Highlander praying that Joe didn’t have a watcher on MacLeod.

 

Once inside Methos settled on the sofa while MacLeod shuffled through several boxes in the closet, “I kept meaning to mail these to Jon but I forgot. He moved to Methos and dropped some garments into his lap. Methos lifted the beige cashmere sweater and jeans, and then stared at the soft, silky, beige panties and bra in his lap. Blinking at MacLeod he wordlessly rose and dropped the kimono. MacLeod flinched. Methos raised a brow, “Oh come on, you’ve seen it all before.”

 

Blushing crimson MacLeod mumbled something about socks and shoes in the closet and beat a hasty retreat. While the Highlander was hiding Methos took a deep breath and stepped into the panties pulling them up. Well that wasn’t so bad, they were actually a good fit which helped him, _her,_ with sizes later. Then the bra. He’s had some experience with this item of apparel when he and Alexa had been together, and he had helped her dress at the end. Carefully he righted it then fastened it in the front and tugged it a round his chest and slipped his arms in the straps. It also fit well. The jeans turned out to be a bit too snug in the seat but not unbearable, and Methos was faced with the sweater. It would have been lovely on Amanda, it was soft and clingy in all the right places and Methos cringed inwardly. He couldn’t avoid the fact that he had breasts now. The sweater made sure of that.

 

When Methos turned around MacLeod was standing beside the sofa not looking at him, then carefully the Highlander raised his eyes smiling guiltily.

 

 “You were checking me out weren’t you?” Methos said snippily.

 

With a glare he accepted the white leather sneakers and white socks. Bending over he heard MacLeod groan softly behind him, “Stop it right now.”

 

The mall turned out to be a bad idea, Methos couldn’t relax and seemed to suffer from extreme anxiety. MacLeod noticed that Methos kept noticing every male who looked at him, and they all looked. How could they not, Methos was among the few truly beautiful women in the place.  Finally, MacLeod abandoned discretion and slipped an arm around the other immortal’s waist. Methos started to shy away then relaxed into the Highlander’s touch. They both noticed that seemed to limit a lot of the gawking by male passersby. Sneering in anger Methos hissed, “Well it’s a good thing that my _boyfriend_ is here to protect me.”

 

 “Please Methos let’s just get this over with.” MacLeod replied. He propelled Methos into an expensive boutique where he usually shopped for Amanda, but the older immortal dug in his heels.

 

 “No, I don’t like these things.”

 

“Okay, how about the Gap? They’re trendy and popular with kids your age. Richie shops there.”

 

 “There are no kids my age, Mac. But Mina would probably like it. Adam shops there after all.” Methos sighed then noticed the Highlander staring at him. “What?”

 

 “Do you think of Adam as someone separate from yourself? A different person?”

 

 “Yes, sometimes, all my personas are different from...Well me.”

Victoria’s Secret caused a minor skirmish but MacLeod finally managed to drag Methos inside without causing a scene. The sales clerk was very helpful and using the undergarments Methos was wearing she managed to come up with enough choices to satisfy the Highlander if not his reluctant partner. When Methos wasn’t looking MacLeod added a very expensive emerald green silk robe and slinky nighty; instructing the clerk to box it separately as a gift.

 

The girl rang up the purchases and accepted the Scot’s credit card for payment. “Your girlfriend is really gorgeous,” she gushed while wrapping the items in white tissue paper before slipping them into bags. MacLeod accepted the carrier adding it to the two large paper bags he held from the Gap.

 

 “Yeah she is.” he said smiling. Tucking the robe and nightgown into a white box she bagged that as well.

 

Dinner in the barge was consumed accompanied by the cds Methos had bought at the mall as well, also charged on MacLeod’s credit card. Methos had chased the Highlander out of the galley commandeering the cooking of the meal and turned out a lovely meal of poached herbed chicken and wild rice. MacLeod settled back in the chair savoring the last bite and moaned appreciatively. “That was great; you really know your way around the kitchen. How come you don’t cook more often?”

 

“Too lazy,” Methos replied taking a long swallow from the beer bottle he was holding. “It wasn’t too bad, was it? I should be going.”

 

 “I would feel better if you stayed here tonight. I mean, just until we can get you a sword that works for your size.” the Highlander said not looking up at his friend. Methos cocked his head,

“That’s not entirely true, is it? I found the night gown, it’s sexy.”

 

“I really wasn’t thinking about that. Well, actually I was, but not this soon. Okay truthfully I’ve been thinking about that for months now.”

 

Eyes widening in disbelief Methos said, “Even before this?” he ran his hands down his body causing the Highlander to follow along with his gaze. “Even before.”

 

“Bullshit, you never said anything. I’ve been testing the waters for almost a year now, and I’ve really poured it on the last three months and you never noticed once.”

 

Smiling MacLeod said, “I noticed. I was just having some fun at your expense. I figured that you thought that I would never make a move on another man, and I was enjoying being one up on you so I played dumb for my own amusement and gratification.”

 

“You weren’t playing dumb, you are dumb. We could have been getting hot and heavy a long time ago, and now I can’t be sure that you want me not this plastic inflatable Barbie doll I’ve become.”

 

MacLeod rose from his chair and knelt in the floor beside Methos, “I guess you can’t. I can only try and convince you. I did want you before and I still do. And no it’s not just this body. I thought you had a nice ass a long time ago.”

 

Tugging Methos out of the chair MacLeod cupped his hands around the body part in question Methos wiggled invitingly. “It’s a peach huh,” he whispered to the Highlander.

 

“Aye, a fine piece of work, tight as a drum.”

 

 Grinning Methos straddled the Highlander’s thigh humping lightly, “I’ll bet that’s not the only thing that’s tight.” With a growl MacLeod wrapped his big hands around Methos’ slender waist; pleased the he could almost reach all the way around, and leaned forward to take the ancient immortal’s mouth in a deep, wet kiss. Throwing his arms around the Highlander’s neck Methos ground himself against the other man.

 

Staggering to the bed MacLeod stripped the sweater off followed by the bra, then reached down to unfasten the jeans. Methos pushed the other immortal away and tugged his trainers then socks off before stripping away the jeans. Kneeling on the bed wearing just the silk panties he watched as MacLeod stripped. The pale evening sunlight pouring through the portholes glistened on the tawny golden skin; Methos raked his fingers through the soft brown hair covering the Highlander’s chest.

 

Pushing Methos gently down on the bed MacLeod and lowered his head for another deep kiss, their tongues met and twined together. MacLeod closed his eyes breathing in the warm, earthy scent that was all Methos, the same scent he remembered whenever he had been brave enough to lean into the ancient immortal’s personal space. He kissed and nipped along the line of the slender jaw. There was no evening stubble like Methos usually had, but the skin was as soft as he could have imagined. He kissed down the swan-like neck to a firm round breast sucking the pink nipple into his mouth. Methos gasped murmuring soft encouragement in a deep throaty voice that sent shivers down the Highlander’s spine. Letting his tongue trail over the silky smooth skin the Highlander tickled Methos’ navel and was delighted to find his lover ticklish. Methos laced his fingers through the thick dark locks on the Highlander’s head and pushed him down further where he wanted him to go.

 

But the Highlander by-passed the thick curls and soft folds of skin concealed within for the long slender thighs. Methos uttered a brief descriptive curse, and MacLeod chuckled, “All in good time. Don’t be in such a hurry. God, you taste so good, Methos.”

 

Nipping up the smooth skin he raked his nose through the thatch of curls then licked the folds of flesh. When he leaned down and thrust the tip of his tongue into Methos’ center he howled like a demon. Thrusting into the warm, damp cleft MacLeod grasped Methos’ hips holding them down on the dark duvet. Moaning Methos twisted his fingers in the long dark hair crying out as his first orgasm erupted in heated fury. MacLeod raised up spreading Methos thighs and grasped his hard cock, thrusting into the writhing body below him. Methos cried out again as the hard length of flesh invaded his throbbing body. Raising his legs Methos locked them around MacLeod’s waist. Thrusting vigorously MacLeod brought Methos to climax a second time, and then poured himself inside his lover’s warm body.

 

Afterwards, MacLeod lay with Methos’ head on his shoulder gently stroking his trembling shoulders, “Too soon?” he asked quietly. 

 

Methos stretched languidly smiling up at his lover, “Not bloody soon enough.”

 

Gently MacLeod moved Methos’ head off his shoulder and kicked the covers. Quickly he hurried across the room to the table beside the sofa picking up the paper bag containing the puzzle box. He returned to the bed and climbed in. “Well, should we try the first combination.”

 

Nodding Methos watched as MacLeod carefully began sliding the tiles around hoping to duplicate the design he had made the first night he had the box. Methos watched then touched his arm, “what if it’s not right, I might wake up a hippopotamus or something.”

 

Chuckling the Highlander paused, “I can’t remember exactly what I said but I think I recall enough so that doesn’t happen.” MacLeod smiled down at the small woman beside him.

 

“What was the gist of it?” Methos asked nudging him in the ribs with an elbow.

 

MacLeod smiled, “I do remember wishing that you were the kind of person who could have never been one of the Four Horsemen.”

“Yes, I suppose that if I was born a woman I would have never been a Horse _man_.”

 

 “God, Methos, that’s a little out of left field. I mean I was hoping for a regular guy.”

 

“They’re spirits, Mac, they can go left field if they want. Besides that’s what you don’t understand.” Methos sighed, “The Horsemen were all regular guys at one time. Five thousand years ago we were just one more raiding party, sure we got really good at it, but we weren’t the first or the only ones. ”

 

 “Well, I’m trying hard to understand, but it was a different world and I just can’t grasp it. But believe me Methos I am trying. Okay, this looks good. I think its close. “Okay I wish to undo my wish that Methos was not the kind of person who would have been a Horseman.”

 

 “That’s that. Do you suppose we have to go to sleep?”

 

 “I don’t know; it worked over night before.” MacLeod leaned down wiping out the design on the puzzle box and placing it on the night table. He turned off the lamp, drew Methos into his arms, and drifted off to sleep.”

 

The next morning Methos woke up early and rolled out of bed rushing for the bathroom. But the height of the mirror was still wrong and he knew that it hadn’t worked. Disappointed but not bitter he used the toilet, washed up and wandered back to the bed. MacLeod was sitting back propped against the tapestry on the wall. He tried to set his features as neutral as possible until he could see how Methos felt about their lack of success. He climbed into the bed turning to face the Highlander, “Well I guess we can try again tonight. It just a matter of time.” he smiled, “Let’s make love.”

 

They did make love, but MacLeod had classes to teach in the mid morning, so while he showered Methos cooked breakfast. After MacLeod had left Methos cleared up the mess they had made in the living room the night before stripped the bed, washed laundry and walked down the street to the shops for something he needed for supper.  MacLeod returned home that night to the wonderful aroma of the food Methos had cooked. They ate, talked about their respective days, and went to the Health club where the Highlander spent a couple of hours re-training Methos to fight. They came home, went to bed and made love. The puzzle box was still on the night table, once again MacLeod worked out a design that seemed familiar made the wish and shook out the design.

 

The next few weeks were spent much the same way. Every morning they rose, MacLeod went to work, and Methos cleaned house and cooked. Tugging the covers off the bed yet again Methos sighed and lugged the laundry to the washer. Clothes taken care off he picked up a scrub brush and pulled on rubber gloves to clean the bathroom.

 

Pausing Methos stared at his self in the mirror. Taking in his appearance Methos gaped, “Oh shit, I’ve been possessed by the ghost of June Cleaver.

 

Jerking off the rubber gloves he stomped out of the bathroom, “My god, what has my life become, I certainly didn’t picture it like this. I mean a person can only clean the same bathroom, make the same bed and cook the same meals so my times in a row before he starts thinking about buying a high powered rifle, climbing a tower and picking off innocent by-standers with wild abandon.”

 

The shiver of immortal presence tugged at his consciousness. Cursing under his breath Methos grabbed the short sword they had selected for him and moved to the door. Richie Ryan stood framed in the late morning light staring at the small, slender girl standing in the middle of the living room. Methos frowned placing the sword in the corner by the door jerking his head, “Ryan what are you doing here? Does Mac know you’re back in town?”

 

“I’m sorry Miss, do I know you?” Richie asked hanging in the doorway still unsure of this strange immortal female inhabiting the Highlander’s living space.

 

Propping his hands on his hips Methos snapped “Oh for god’s sake, Ryan, you moron.”

 

“Methos?” Richie gaped, “What happened?”

 

 Grinning Methos tossed his head, “What are you taking about? Something’s wrong?”

 

Richie grinned good-naturedly and Methos took pity on him. “It’s a really long story. I’ll tell it to you over a cup of coffee, come on.”

 

“Actually I was going to ask Mac if he wanted to go to the new cafe down the street, but since he’s not here you want to go with me?” 

 

Methos paused shuddering, “I haven’t gone out much since this happened. We went to the mall and people stared at me.”

 

“Well yeah, cause you’re a hot babe.” Richie said smiling as if that should have been obvious to anyone. Methos groaned then cocked his head. Biting his lower lip the ancient immortal looked out the door at the bright sunlight and the still as yet unmade bed.

 

“Well I guess it would be alright. When we’re in public you have to call me Mina Pierson.”

 

” Oh, like Adam. A relative or something?”

 

 “Yes, actually his cousin.” Methos said pulling on his shoes, “You know you’re not as dumb as you look kid.”

 

“Yeah, thanks...I think.” Richie turned to the closet, “the extra helmet for my bike is in there. Let me get it. Unless you want to drive your car.”

 

“You’ll have to drive I haven’t gotten my license yet.”

 

 “Why not, identity trouble?” Richie asked frowning, “You used to be pretty independent.”

 

 “Oh Mac’s been busy.” Methos shrugged.

 

Richie held open the door and said, “Well get your keys and your birth certificate and passport.  We’ll go by the Registrar’s office after lunch.”

 

The cafe Richie had taken them too turned out to be a small bistro with a large outdoor courtyard filled with wrought iron tables and small delicate looking chairs. The tables were covered in deep rich green cloths and set with nice china. Altogether it was a bright cheery looking place. Methos was still uncomfortable with the number of glances he received, but mostly the men seemed to be looking at Richie enviously so that clamed him considerably.  Richie held the gate to the courtyard open and Methos reigned in his impulse to blast the younger immortal. They ordered the house special for lunch, and was served s thick rich beef barley soup and sourdough bread. Methos enjoyed the meal and being outside. If he was going to be a girl for a long time Methos decided there was no point in becoming a hermit.

 

Several hours later they got back to the barge MacLeod’s car was parked beside Richie’s motorcycle and he came to the door when he felt the buzz of immortal presence. Richie grinned and the Highlander moved forward to grasp him by the shoulders.  “Hey, Rich when did you get into town?”

“Yesterday, actually but I spent the night at Joe’s place. He’s really pissed that you and the old man,” Richie glanced at Methos, “Well I guess the, old lady, haven’t been around in a while.”

 

Methos grunted, “Don’t overestimate your importance around here, Ryan. Just because you took me to get my license doesn’t mean I‘ll tolerate you or anything.”

 

 “I wondered where you had gotten too. I’m used to you being here when I get home, and I was worried until I saw Richie’s bike.   You should have let me know that you were going out.”

 

Methos stiffened noticeably, “Why? I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Mac. I don’t need protecting. And before you say that was when I was a man, I’ve been working out with you every night for three weeks, and I think I can handle a sword now. Not to mention I still carry a gun as well.”

 

“Well, I’m sort of used to you being here that’s all.”

 

 “Well the days of the dutiful little woman waiting for the lord and master of the manor to come home are sort of passé now. And this tub hardly qualifies as a manor anyway. I want a life...”

 

“We have a life, Methos. It was good enough for the past three weeks. What’s wrong? Richie what did you do?”

 

“Don’t blame, Rich...” _Oh great now I’m defending Ryan_ Methos sighed, “You have a life. I have a boat to clean and laundry and meals...”

 

MacLeod stepped forward taking Methos’ hand in his, “You’re feeling trapped, out of control. I know how much you need that control. Maybe if you got a job, or something.”

 

“Mina can’t actually do anything.  She’s so young. I have to start all over.” Methos grunted but MacLeod refused to let him pull away.

 

 “Well you’ve done that before as a man, started young, and worked at it. Go to school, you like going to school, don’t you?”

 

 “Don’t patronize me. I don’t know why you think you have the right to decide everything that goes on around here.” Suddenly Methos paused pressing his hand to his abdomen, “Damn muscle spasms.” He signed again and MacLeod and Richie glanced at each other.

 

“Muscle spasms,” Richie asked and Methos turned to face the younger man.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been having them all day. I must have pulled something this morning. It’s funny my immortal healing usually kicks in pretty fast...”

 

“Uhmm,” MacLeod said and Richie backed toward the door, but the Highlander stopped him with a glare, “You’re not leaving me alone to do this.”

 

“Yeah, I really think this is something that you should do in private.” Richie grinned sheepishly, “It’s not going to go over real good.”

 

“What are you two blathering about?” Methos snapped, and MacLeod tugged him over to the sofa, “well, it’s been about three weeks. I wasn’t sure when or if this would happen but Amanda and Gina still do so I guess you’re not exempt. Methos I think you’re a little upset because it’s _that_ time of the month.”

 

“It’s the fifteenth, Mac. Are you saying that I’m going to have an emotional break-down on the fifteenth of every month?” Methos snorted, and MacLeod flinched blushing furiously. Richie groaned then took a deep breath.

 

“He’s saying that you’re going to get your period.”

 

Methos blinked owlishly then turned to face the younger immortal, “I beg your pardon?”

 

 Taking Methos’ hand again MacLeod bravely forged onward, “Your menstrual cycle. I think that it’s _that_ time, you know.”

 

“But I’m immortal shouldn’t I heal or something?” Methos asked much more calmly than MacLeod had expected.  He shook his head, “Amanda explained it to me, immortal healing takes care of injuries or illness, and the menstrual cycle isn’t either. It’s a natural part of a female’s life, even an immortal female.”

 Springing to his feet Methos stormed across the room and seized the puzzle box shoving it into the Highlander’s hands, “Get to work, you had better come up with that design before I start bleeding. I am not going to live like this any more!”

 

 “Methos it’s not that easy, you know that! I’ve been trying every night for that last three weeks. I just can’t remember that design. Please, honey, calm down.”

 

“Don’t you honey me you bastard! You just don’t understand what it’s been like. God, as annoying as she is I wish Amanda was here. At least she would understand what I’m going through...” Methos’ eyes widened, “Oh, god, no. I can’t remember what it’s like to be a man. I’m starting to think like woman.  But I can’t...Mac.” 

 

Methos’ face was chalk white and MacLeod rose from the sofa quickly catching him by the shoulders, easing him down onto the soft cushions, and then quickly wrapping him in a warm blanket. “You look like you’re going into shock. Just sit still,” the Highlander whispered wrapping his arms around the small, trembling body, “its okay I’ve got you.”

 

Richie moved quietly to the entryway, and waved briefly at MacLeod before closing the door. The Highlander sat on the sofa holding Methos tightly murmuring softly until the older immortal relaxed. Methos looked up at MacLeod shamefaced, and then dropped his gaze, but the Highlander raised his face up by placing the tips of his fingers under Methos’ chin. “Okay now?”

 

“Sorry I’m not usually this much of a wimp.” Methos smiled and MacLeod returned the grin.

 

“Don’t worry about it, this is really stressful situation, you’re bound to deal with it differently than before. Hey in honor of the momentous occasion of your driver’s license let’s go out for dinner. We’ll even take your car.”

 

Methos rolled over pressing the heating pad against his belly grunting in pain. The cramps had gotten steadily worse since the bleeding had begun, and he could not find a comfortable position to lie in. MacLeod had gone to the drug store in search of something to ease the pain, and for other things Methos would need. The buzz of immortal presence caught Methos by surprise and he prayed it was the Highlander because if another immortal showed up he just might let them take his head.

 

Placing a plastic bag, bearing the name of a large drug store on the front, on the table beside the bed MacLeod touched Methos’ shoulder.  “I asked the clerk at the store; she said this should work well. She uses it. Here I’ll get you some water.” He shook two tablets out of a plastic bottle and handed them to Methos who swallowed them obediently with the water. Taking a deep breath MacLeod rattled the bag and Methos glared at him, “Uhmm, about these other things, I wasn’t sure so I got both, uhmm, well you know...”

 

 “I’ll figure it out.” Climbing off the bed Methos disappeared into the bathroom for a lot longer than MacLeod felt comfortable with. Finally, he reappeared and settled on the edge of the bed. “The clerk was right, it does help. And I worked out the other things. Thanks Mac, really. I truly appreciate this; it goes above and beyond the call of friendship.”

 

“I think we’re past friendship, Methos. I can’t speak for you, but I love you.”

 

Methos smiled, “Hey, I love you too, you know. You’re a good guy, Mac. I can see what keeps Amanda coming back century after century.” Smiling he patted the Highlander’s arm, but MacLeod shook off Methos’ small, slender hand. Head bowed he sat on the other side of the bed. Methos rose to his knees and crawled across, clasping his arms around the other immortal’s neck. MacLeod shrugged then pulled Methos’ arms around his chest. “What I had with Amanda, what I felt for her is different. I knew there were no promises. She never asked for any promises and I never gave her any. What I feel for you is different.”

 

“How different?” Methos asked breathlessly. MacLeod gently shook Methos off his back, reaching over to pull a small dark blue velvet box out of the drawer in the night table. Turning he smiled so hopefully that Methos felt a wave of warmth unfurling low in his belly. His long, elegant fingers were wrapped around the box, and the Highlander grinned.

 

Almost afraid to open the box Methos let it rest on the palm of his hand, and then gently lifted the lid. He almost gasped at the sight of the ring, platinum with a large and, Methos was certain, perfectly cut diamond. Glancing at the Highlander he swallowed. MacLeod grinned taking the ring out of the box, “I’ll get down on one knee if you want.”

 

“No, Duncan.”  Methos said and was impressed by the steadiness of his voice. The hurt look in the Highlander’s eyes broke his heart and Methos quickly added, “It’s not necessary for you to be on your knees.”

 

MacLeod gave him a heart wrenching smile then, and before Methos could think the ring was on his finger. And he knew that there were a hundred good reasons why it shouldn’t be, and oddly enough couldn’t think of one at that particular moment.

 

When Methos didn’t remove the ring MacLeod looked into his eyes, “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes,” he whispered leaning against MacLeod again. The Highlander stretched out on the bed laying back taking Methos with him. They lay still until MacLeod said, “We have to pick a date for the wedding.”

 

“Okay, we’ll work out the details later.”

 

It was four more days before Richie got up the nerve to return to the barge. It was a Saturday morning and MacLeod was working on the engine of the barge. The younger immortal parked his motorcycle beside Mac’s car and scrambled up the gangplank from the quay. MacLeod turned smiling, “Hey, Rich give me a hand with this gear. The engine is slipping and I want to tighten these belts.”

 

Tugging off his jacket Richie rolled his sleeves up and dug into the gear box, helping the Highlander work the huge gear loose.  “Ow, that was stuck tight. So how’s things going, Methos better?”

 

“Yeah, now that it’s over I think he’ll adjust. It won’t be as much of a shock next time.”

 

“Ah, yeah, are you still working the puzzle box every night? What happens if you don’t find the right design to reverse the wish?” Richie asked wiping the grease from his hands onto a rag. “Or maybe I should ask what happens if you do find the right one?”

 

MacLeod leaned the wrench against the bulkhead and picked up a bottle of beer chugging down the last few swallows. “Come on let’s go inside.”

 

They headed to the galley and MacLeod handed Richie a beer taking another for himself. “Yes, I still work the box every night, and I don’t know if I can reverse the wish or not. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I think I remember enough. You know, Rich, I’ve found out that I love Methos.”

 

 “Yeah she’s one hot babe, I mean with a body like that what’s not to love!”

 

“It’s not the body I love Rich. It’s Methos, even with the whining and complaining and the smart mouth and bad attitude. We’ll be sitting here at night playing chess or listening to music like we used too and she’ll smile at me and I’ll flash back to a memory of him sitting here smiling at me in the exact same way, and I realize that I loved him even then. It’s the Methos inside that I love; the outside is some superficial packaging. Female or male I love Methos.”

“Well I’m glad; something like that doesn’t come along everyday.” Richie smiled hugging MacLeod, and the Highlander slapped him on the back. “I asked him to marry me. I want you to be my best man.”

 

“Oh wow, uhmm, sure...” Richie cleared his throat looking away and MacLeod leaned forward, “Are you crying, Richie.”

 

“Ah no man, I just got something my eye.”

 

Both men turned, scanning the door as they felt immortal presence washing over them.

Methos pushed open the door dropping his books on the table. “God the university’s bookstore is a nightmare. I’m glad I didn’t wait until classes start to get these...Did you two have a fight.”

 

 “No.” Both Richie and MacLeod said at the same time.

 

Methos frowned at them, “Then why is Richie crying?”

 

“I’m not crying.”

 

Rolling his eyes Methos snorted indelicately, “I’ll get dinner started. Did you get this floating junk heap seaworthy?”

 

“No but we’re working on it. Care to assist me, Rich.”

 

With an annoyed tasking Methos said, “you know you should really just get a mechanic in to look at it.”

 

“Ach, woman, I can do it.” MacLeod said winking at Richie behind Methos’ back. Knowing that the older immortal would get huffy about the “woman” remark.

 

True to form Methos frowned and growled, “Well when we’re under the Seine I’ll remind you that you said that.”

 

Later that night after making love, Methos lay with his head on the Highlander’s broad chest. MacLeod tangled his fingers in the silky strands of hair at the nape of Methos’ neck. Methos was letting it grow out a little and McLeod thought the longer length made him, look incredibly young and innocent. In fact Methos looked young enough that MacLeod felt like he was the old one sometimes.

 

“Still awake,” he asked and Methos shifted making a soft sound deep in his throat that the Highlander took for assent. “We still need to set a date for the wedding.”

 

“It was your idea, Duncan...You pick a date.”

 

 “Well isn’t there something you have an emotional attachment too?”

 

“Uh huh, you.” Methos rolled over blinking up at his bedmate.

 

Sighing MacLeod tugged on a lock of hair, “No, I meant a date that has emotional significance for you.”

 

 “I don’t get emotional about time, Mac. I’ve seen way too much of it. Summer solstice maybe, it used to be a good omen. Why do you think that so many people get married in June?”

 

“Summer solstice it is. I need to call Connor. Have you ever met him before?”

 

Methos shrugged frowning, “I don’t think so, although I was in Scotland in the 16th century. I stayed away from Connor. He had a reputation as a damn good swordsman.”

 

“What about me?”

 

 “You weren’t immortal yet.” Methos said yawning, “So what’ll you think your cousin will say when he finally finds out you’re going to tie the knot?”

 

MacLeod flinched, “What was that...”

 

 “Tie the knot, it’s a colloquialism. It means get married.” Methos said gabbing the Highlander in the ribs.

 

“Oh,” MacLeod whispered as a clear image of the puzzle box floated to the surface of his memory. “I’m sure he’ll be happy for me. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

 

 Aren’t you forgetting something?” Methos asked and MacLeod leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, “Nice but I meant the puzzle box.”

 

As the Highlander sat up searching the drawer for the box Methos leaned over his side of the bed placing his engagement ring on the night table. He had decided that if the wish was reversed he didn’t want the ring to get stuck on his hand and have to be cut off to be removed.  MacLeod cradled the puzzle box in his palm wondering if Methos would kill him if it was somehow damaged, and he couldn’t make the wish.

 

Of course Methos would never have to know if he did remember the design, MacLeod could do anything and pretend it didn’t work. Nobody would ever know, but him. Besides Methos was adjusting, really well. Maybe in just a few more years and he, _she_ , wouldn’t even ask anymore.  It was for his own good really, for their life together. MacLeod let his fingers work the tiles casting a glance at Methos’ smiling face.

 

 Somehow MacLeod had forgotten to set the alarm clock and was late for an early morning staff meeting at the university. Methos had gotten him dress, fed and out the door before letting a twinge of disappointment flow through him. MacLeod had not worked to correct combination last night and he was still a she. Well, knowing the Boy Scout as well as Methos did MacLeod wouldn’t be able to take the guilt too long, and Methos was willing to give him time, but he could tell from the look MacLeod had given him last night the Highlander remembered. But Methos was too much in love with MacLeod to throw it all away.

 

Methos had finished eating breakfast when he noticed the envelope holding his tuition check for summer semester classes was still on the desk. Shit, MacLeod had forgotten it.  Showering hurriedly Methos threw on some clothes and dug up his wallet and keys and headed for his SUV, but when he turned the keys nothing happened. The engine was as dead as the proverbial doornail.

 

“Damn it all,” Methos snarled slamming the door. Glancing at his watch he moaned if he was going to make the Metro train he would have to hurry. Setting off down the street at a trot he failed to notice the tall, broad shouldered form that followed.

 

Half way to the train station there was an alley that led to an empty warehouse. The hum of immortal presence hit him full force and Methos paused turning in a slow circle trying to locate the other immortal. Just as he had decided to back away from the alley and head back to the barge a huge bulky form rose up from behind the dumpster.

 

“I am Erik Ellison, mademoiselle, please to make your acquaintance.” He stalked forward brandishing a huge medieval bastard sword. There was no way Methos could take Ellison with the short sword hidden in the lining of his jacket. Methos smiled fetchingly, “Mina Pierson, please, I don’t want to fight you.”

 

 Jerking the Glock out of his pocket Methos managed to snap off one shot before Ellison was on him. He was a big man, and apparently old because the bullet to the shoulder barely slowed him down. Twisting the gun out of Methos’ hands, Ellison slapped him hard across the face. It was just an open handed slap but it was all but a knock out blow, and Methos hit the ground hard. The big meaty hand twisted into his jacket ripping it off; grabbing the front of the wine colored sweatshirt Methos was wearing. With one hand over Methos’ mouth Ellison straddled his body forcing the smaller immortal to the ground. Grunting Methos thrust a knee up into the man’s crotch. Ellison hissed, but from his position on the ground the blow lacked momentum and Methos cursed.

 

Throwing himself Methos managed to twist out of the other immortal’s grasp, feeling the material of the sweatshirt part. Calming himself the older immortal thrust a hand up, striking his attacker in the nose, feeling the satisfying crunch as the bone gave. Ellison yelped pulling his sword. Methos tumbled backward striking the ground hard, as the sword blade whistled through the air over head. The Glock was a cold and welcome weight in Methos’ hand as he turned and fired. Ellison’s head erupted in several pieces from the close range shot, and before he could recover the older immortal drew his own sword, raising it high in the air.

 

The barge was dark just an hour later when MacLeod walked through the door, although he could sense Methos’ presence and had seen the Jimmy in its parking spot.  “Methos, I came back after the meeting I forgot the check for your tuition. Methos...” he paused just making out the form huddled on the sofa. He could hear Methos snuffle quietly and quickly walked over to the sofa dropping down to his knees. Gently taking his shoulders MacLeod turned Methos around...”Honey what’s wrong?”

 

Drawing in a deep shuddering breath the ancient immortal reached over turning on the lamp.  The bruises and cuts were all healed but Methos hadn’t changed the dirty, ripped clothes and MacLeod gasped, “You took a challenge?”

 

“Yeah, I guess...I realized you had forgotten the check so I decided to bring it to the university myself, but my car wouldn’t start. I just decided to take the Metro. About half way to the station I ran into another immortal, Erik Ellison. He did challenge me, but I had to shoot him, and take his head...He almost killed me, Mac.”

“Oh my god, this is my fault.” MacLeod said eyes filling with tears.

 

Methos shook her head, “No it’s not. We all can face a challenge at any time, Duncan. It’s just a part of who we are...”

 

In agony MacLeod rose walking to the bed to pick up the puzzle box, “I remembered the design last night. I did it wrong on purpose so you wouldn’t change back into a man.” He settled on the sofa beside the ancient immortal. “I’m so sorry, I let you down and I lied to you. This is my fault. If you would have been a man, faced him as a man if I had done the right thing last night.”

 

“And if I was a man he might have taken my head, it’s not going to all come back just because I change. It’s been long enough that I’ll have to readjust again. I remembered what you taught me, the martial arts. It saved my life.”

 

 “I’m so sorry, I love you so much. I guess I was afraid that if you were a man again, you wouldn’t love me anymore.” MacLeod sat moving the tiny tiles into a design that resembled a Celtic knot. “This is it, shall I do it now?” he asked and Methos nodded.

 

Methos rolled over the next morning and reached out to touch the ring lying on the table, grunting the ancient immortal realized two things simultaneously, first he had to pee, and second he had a raging hard-on. Grinning like a maniac he snuggled into MacLeod’s back letting the hard cock nudge the Highlander in the small of the back. MacLeod realized Methos was nudging him to awaken him and, feeling the other immortal’s fingers on his shoulders, also realized that Methos wasn’t using his hands.  He grunted and rolled over running his fingers over the stubble on Methos’ cheeks and chin. “You need to shave,” he whispered grinning. Methos smiled widely.

 

“Yeah, ain’t it grand?”

 

 “You also seem to have another problem,” the Highlander added snickering. Methos narrowed his eyes then smirked.

 

“Yeah, I need to piss, too.”

 

“What, with this perhaps,” MacLeod let his fingers trail over the other man’s flat belly to his hard cock.  Grasping the hard length of flesh he tugged, Methos hissed in response.  Pushing Methos over onto his back MacLeod raked his tongue through the stubble on his face down his neck and across a tight little nipple. Methos cried out, “Shit, that’s not fair. I was expecting you to be a bit more hesitant.”

 

“How can I be hesitant about making love to the person I love,” MacLeod asked, he nuzzled his way down Methos’ belly to the leaking cock letting his tongue glide up the underside and then capturing the tip in his mouth before sucking the full length into his throat. Methos uttered one short hoarse curse word and spilled into the warm wet heat of this partner’s willing mouth. Spitting the semen back into his hand MacLeod used most of it to coat his own erection then quickly twisted two fingers into the entrance to his lover’s body.

 

“Oh yes!” the ancient immortal hissed, “Yes, Duncan!”

 

 Scooting between Methos wide spread legs the Highlander thrust his aching flesh into the tight hot channel. Methos howled his approval thrusting up enthusiastically to meet MacLeod’s downward thrusts. It took only a short time before Methos was fully erect again, and he reached between their bodies to grasp his own cock. Grunting MacLeod thrust a few more times before empting himself into the warm willing body beneath him.  Methos growled as he climaxed again sending spurt after spurt of pearly liquid over his chest and stomach.

 

Panting the Highlander collapsed onto the bed and rolled over to pull Methos into his arms. Methos snuggled against the broad chest then raked his fingers through MacLeod chest hair, “Are you sorry, Mac.”

 

“About what? Methos I love you, the you inside the body. Everything else is just superficial packaging.”

 

“Are you sorry that there won’t be a wedding?”

 

MacLeod glared down at him, “Did you change your mind old man?”

 

 “Well, I’m not going to fit into that designer gown you were eyeing up, not unless it comes in a much larger size.” he grinned and MacLeod affectionately bopped him on the top of the head.

 

“The J.P.’s office will let us do the commitment ceremony casual.”

“Commitment ceremony? You mean you checked into a civil ceremony for gays?” Methos was shocked, and MacLeod felt immense satisfaction at being one up on the old man yet again.

 

 “Sure, I’m not letting you get away just because you’re a man again.”

 

Smiling Methos said, “So I guess you still have to call Connor after all.”

 

**Epilogue**

Joe shuffled nervously once again tugging at the collar on his tux. Sighing he glanced around the court room deciding that the Highlander did do anything by half measures. MacLeod had specifically requested that the Commitment Ceremony be the last one scheduled on the Justice of the Peace’s calendar. The wedding planner Mac had hired had done a marvelous job of decorating the courtroom; it looked almost like a chapel.

 

The long wooden table in the front of the bench was decorated with two large, beautiful and incredibly expensive floral arrangements. A long piece of MacLeod Tartan was draped in the center and a large; white book that Joe had been told was the MacLeod Family Bible was settled in the center along with the Claymore belonging to Ian MacLeod. As a part of the ceremony Connor, as the eldest MacLeod male would officially record the marriage of Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson in the Bible as all the Clan’s previous marriages had been dutifully recorded.

 

Once again Joe tugged at his collar. As the adopted father of the “bride” he was escorting Methos to the altar. Actually MacLeod had ordered him—in no uncertain terms—to drag the ancient pain in the ass to the altar, kicking and screaming, if necessary.

 

 Glancing around the room the mortal smiled, Amanda and Nick Wolfe were seated to the left of the altar with Robert and Gina de Valincourt. Richie and his girlfriend, Karen, were on the other side.  Behind them were Connor’s wife, Alexandra and their son, Johnny, a long with Duncan’s cousin Rachel.

 

Standing in front of the Justice of the Peace was Duncan and Connor, both in full Highlander dress. Connor nodded to the piper standing in the corner and he took up his bagpipes, playing the traditional wedding march.

 

As the first strains of the music drifted back to the door where Joe was standing he moved toward the small side room where Methos had hidden out waiting for the last of the guests to arrive. Taking a deep breath he turned the knob, and was relieved when the door opened a crack. Joe chuckled to himself, Methos had been miffed, to say the least, at losing the coin toss on the “bride”—“groom” assignments, and Joe wasn’t certain that Methos hadn’t locked the door, and would refuse to budge. But the door swung inward and the old immortal turned smiling.

 

He stood arching one eyebrow then whispered, “So my knight in shining armor awaits?”

 

Grinning the mortal nodded reaching out to straighten Methos’ tie. The black silk tux was perfectly cut for the older man’s slim, wiry body. With a paternal sigh Joe raked his fingers through Methos’ unruly hair, until Methos gave him a gentle Adam Pierson-like smile. “Come on, Dad,” he said, “let’s get this show on the road.”

 

Bowing Joe ushered him into the main room, Methos hissed over his shoulder, “Did Mac order you to twist my arm...”

 

 “Well, actually he ordered me to jam a gun in your ribs if you looked like you were going to run, but there are metal detectors at the door and I didn’t think I could smuggle one inside.”

 

The familiar strains of the wedding march sounded, and the guests rose and Methos and Joe marched down the center of the room to the altar.  Duncan’s smile was heart-rendingly bright and enduring and Methos felt a deep warmth flood his body, followed by a rush of fear. He stumbled briefly, and Joe slipped an arm under the other man’s elbow. Taking a deep breath Methos walked the last few steps to his lover.

 

The Justice of the Peace glanced at Connor and the elder Highlander nodded imperceptibly.

 

With a faint grin the Justice said, “Who gives this man to be married?”

 

Methos winced glaring at his future kinsman, and Duncan looked away to cover his grin. Joe straightened his shoulders, “I do.”

 

“Friends and Family, we have gathered together today to witness the joining to two souls, these two men who have come this gathering ...” The Justice paused at the faint murmur that ran through the guests...”to commit themselves to each other.”

 

 Opening the book he held to the neatly typed vows that Duncan had presented him with the Justice looked down MacLeod, “Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod do you take Adam Pierson as your life-partner to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in the light that may brighten your day and in the darkness that fall upon your way from this day forward until death do you part?”

 

 “I do,” MacLeod said smiling over at his chosen mate. Methos blushed feeling a deep, abiding warmth unfurl in his belly. The Justice nodded motioning for the Highlander to take Methos’ hand.

 

“What token do you give as a symbol of your undying affection?”

 

Carefully Connor pulled a gold band off his little finger, he handed it to his kinsman. With trembling fingers Duncan accepted it, “A ring.”

 

 “Place the ring on the third finger of Adam’s left hand and repeat after me...”

 

“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”   Sliding the ring on Methos’ finger Duncan repeated the vow then lifted his lover’s hand to briefly kiss his fingertips.

 

The Justice smiled, nodding at the ancient immortal. “Adam Pierson do you take Duncan MacLeod as your life-partner, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in the light that may brighten your day and the darkness that fall upon your way from this day forward until death do you part?”

 

Taking a deep breath Methos said, “I do.”

 

“And what token do you give as a symbol of your undying affection?”

 

“A ring,” he turned slightly to accept the ring that Joe handed over to him. Quickly Methos took MacLeod’s hand and slid the ring on pausing to study the sweep of the Celtic knot engraved in the band, a mirror image of the design that Duncan had made on the lid of the puzzle box that had started this whole thing, and a mirror image to the ring he wore. The sting of tears blurred his vision and Methos looked down at the floor to regain his composure. After a moment the Justice gently prodded “Adam repeat after me, “With his ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

“With the authority of the nation of France I hereby proclaim that Duncan and Adam are joined together. You may seal your union with a kiss.”

 

Grinning madly the Highlander stalked forward, Methos flinched, “Mac, you wouldn’t dare...”

 

Suddenly the older man found himself caught up in a tight embrace, then the room seemed to spin as MacLeod bent Methos backwards over the Highlander’s brawny arm. A warm, hungry mouth closed over his, and Methos felt the protest dying on his lips. He was whirled to his feet as the guests stood and applauded.

 

Finally, Connor stood and walked to the altar. Methos felt his hands begin to sweat, he was more nervous at this point than he had been the entire ceremony. The elder Highlander’s long, elegant fingers caressed the white leather binding on the ancient Bible before he opened it to blank middle pages set aside for recording family events. Carefully opening the small bottle of black India ink Connor dipped a quill in the bottle and in his neat and precise hand wrote while quoting aloud for the benefit of all in the room, “Married this day, the twenty-first day of June in the year of Our Lord 1997, Duncan MacLeod and Adam Pierson, and may god have mercy on their souls.”

 

“Connor!” the Highlander roared, but his kinsman merely smiled, shaking his head.

 

 “What the matter Duncan, can’t take a joke.” But he lifted the page so that MacLeod could reassure himself that it merely reported the fact of the marriage. Sighing the two men hugged each other, and then Connor moved to formally embrace his new kinsman. With the claymore and the Bible set aside, he lifted the length of MacLeod tartan holding it out to Methos, “welcome kinsman you are now and forever of the Clan MacLeod.”

 

The End

 


End file.
